Le Petit Chaperon Rouge
by Minato's Moustache
Summary: A well bred young lady, attempting to get from one side of the forest to the other to nurse her sick grandmother, she meets a "wolf" and finds herself wooed by his charm and finesse. Wooed and eaten, that is.. A retelling of the original red riding hood.


_**This is short~ and written in a pretty childish manner, it's because it's meant to reflect being what we believe to be a children's tale. Ach meine, ladies and gents. 3 **_

_**The translation is at the end! Go read it if you need too, but a lot of the words are pretty basic. **_

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><p><em>Le Petit Chaperon Rouge.<em>  
><em><br>_

Marie scowled as her step mother shoved the basket into her hand, the contents carefully hidden by a thick woolen red blanket.

"But Mama," she whined in a low voice, "I don't wish to travel out into the forest, it's scary and there's Bzou under every stone and behind most trees."

"Nonsense, Mémé is very sick, run along, belle!"

Marie heard the door slam behind her and pushed the basket into the crook of her elbow. There was a brisk nipping at her exposed arms due to the wind, as to be expected in Northern France In winter.

Checking to make sure no one was looking, she tugged the red blanket from the basket and wrapped it around herself, taking a pin from her hair to tie it at the neck and form a makeshift hood, much better.

Then she set off into the forest, launching her small feet over stones as she skipped, oblivious to the dark shadows. Far off she could hear the yells of the woodcutters, and following the makeshift path, she was sure that by nightfall she could reach her Mémé on the other side of the forest, and maybe offer some bread to the woodcutters as Mama had instructed.

About an hour later, she found herself settling down in a small clearing, tiny truly, to eat her dinner. Above head she could see the thin orange streaks as the sun began to approach the mountains, and realized she was well behind course and would have to sleep somewhere for the night.  
>By the time she finished her sharing of bread, a dash of the expensive wine her mother had gotten especially for Mémé, and nibbled on the frosting coating one of the cakes, she was incredibly tired and the sun had set, leaving the forest dark and quite cold.<p>

She shook her hair from its pins and settled down upon the grass, holding the basket to her chest and covering it and herself with the thick red blanket, then, with a yawn, sleep tugged her away into the comfortable darkness.

_"Wake up."_  
>Marie opened her eyes, tangling herself from the blankets and leaping up to see the owner of the voice, a young looking boy, dressed in the thick clothing of a wood cutter. He was squatting on the ground above where she had just been, and she saw that he was making his way through one of the cakes, his tongue darted out to capture breadcrumbs, and then he rose elegantly.<br>"Bonjour, _le petit chaperon rouge_."

Marie was filled with a mixture of fury, fear, and awe. The Little Red Hood? What?  
>"Where are you off too, <em>ch<em>é_rie_?"

His French was appalling.

"M-my," she stuttered, then, confidence swelling in her chest, "To visit my Mémé, she is very sick and I need to nurse her."

He nodded slowly, plucking her blanket from the ground and sliding it around her shoulders, she shivered noticeably, his hands were incredibly cold, and he chuckled, blowing a breezy breath into her face, it ruffled her hair and sent more shivers through her.

"Do you want an escort, _petit amour_?"

_What does that even mean?_ She thought, and said, "I have to go visit the woodcutters, sir, but you could meet me at _Mémé __à__ domicile_ and escort me back?"  
>The man grinned, it practically split his face, and it occurred to Marie that he had an odd accent, an unusual complexion an-<p>

"she lives in the hut at the break of the trees on the other side of the forest;" Marie blurted out, "follow the path!"

She was unsure why she'd said it: he excited her and terrified her.

"I'm Marie," she whispered, "nice to meet you."

"Ash."

Then he disappeared quite abruptly and Marie found herself wondering of he was ever there in the first place. Deciding to not seethe over it, she picked up the basket, rearranging the contents to make it seem like they hadn't been picked at, she'd water down the quarter empty wine bottle at a stream, and after clipping her hair up, she set off in the direction of the woodcutters.

They were incredibly friendly, and Marie sat with them as they shared bread, and she told the two men about the stranger she met in the forest, leaving out the bit about telling him where her grandmother lived, and they looked on with approval as she told them how she told the man to go away.  
>After awhile, she set off back into the forest, a knot in her stomach as she worried about the stranger.<br>You don't tell Bzou where you're going, ever.

_  
>Ash was wary of eating the girl in front of people, to put it in the bluntest way possible.<p>

He bit his lip as he walked, minds eye trailing over her skinny shoulders in her red cape. He could take his time walking over, having, er, slipped past the woodcutters in the most violent way possible; there were no worries of interruption. None at all, if you forget about her grandmother.

He yawned, his mouth gaping open to reveal his sharp teeth. They didn't have a name for his kind at home, although only fifty years later they'd be referred to as vampires, due to Stoker, and it'd stick as the tales of blood sucking creatures slowly became more and more corrupted.  
>Ash scrambled over a fallen tree and much to his joy, he saw the small cottage, nestled into the forest edge, he approached, and putting on his most feminine voice he knocked.<p>

"Mémé! I am here!" he exclaimed, and then he muttered, "Open the door you old bat."

The door opened, and Ash grabbed the woman, digging his teeth into her neck.

She collapsed, and he quickly dragged her body over and shoved it under the bed, then, realizing that he'd kinda needed the woman to lure in Marie, he panicked. There was another knock at the door, and Ash yelped, leaping under the covers and staying there.

Marie, upon receiving no answer, opened the door slowly, she saw the bundle under the covers and smiled, her grandmother was okay.

"Mémé," she asked softly, "are you okay?" she approached the bed and sat upon a stool by it, there was a distinctly male grunt from beneath the sheets, but Marie misinterpreted it.

"Oh! This sickness has greatly warped your voice! Give me your hand, Mémé!"

Ash slipped his hand out, panicking just a little, this wasn't going as planned! But then he got an idea.

"Your hand is so cold," Marie gasped, "and so big..."

Ash used her surprise as an opportunity to clamp down upon her hand and drag her under the covers. She shrieked, and he clamped a hand over her mouth.

"A wolf ate your grandmother," he whispered, inwardly grinning at his genius, his marvelous cunning, his beautiful _hair and- _No, Ash, no distractions, there's a beautiful, naive woman before you, "there was nothing I could do."

"But wolves are harmless," Marie said around his hand, suspicious. _Merde, she's slightly smarter than I thought._

"This one wasn't!" he snapped. Then he smiled trying to make it gentle.

"Monsieur Ash, you have such big teeth."

Now, Ash was sensitive about his teeth

"All the better to eat you with," he purred, the last three words a snarl, grabbing her and flipping her. She pushed against his chest as he attempted to devour her, tearing into her clothing with little care. Her screams were delicious, as she yelled out for the woodcutters to help.

Suddenly, he fell back with a cough, strips of material falling from his mouth as he retched, and then picked up the source of his trouble, the little pin Marie had been holding her good together with. She leapt from the bed and towards the door, but was stopped by an incredibly angry Ash, who then proceeded to swallow her as whole as he could.

"She didn't taste as pure as she looked," he sneered, "gross."

Then he grabbed her hood and set off for town, determined to sell it.

On his way he saw a girl on the way to town.

"_Bonjour_," he purred, "_I'm Ash_."

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><p><strong>WOAH. This shouldn't exist. <strong>

_**Yes, in the original she died. **_**And the wolf was a metaphor for cunning, gentle men, such as Ash. **

**Gracious French Translations to save you G-trans'in them: **

**Le Petit Chaperon Rouge – literally the small hood red. Red Riding hood, ja. **

**Mama – Mother**

**Bzou – it was the 17****th**** century French equivalent of were-wolves, I used it much more generally here, meaning a demon or a shapeshifter, or a werewolf, whatever. **

**Mémé – A shortened version of grandmother, so in British English: Nan.**

**Petit Amour and Cherie – compliments, like Darling, or Dear. **

**Mémé ****à**** domicile – Grandma's home. It makes more sense than Mémé's home. I'm not destroying French with my gross English. **

**I used modern French in a middle French setting /shot**

**[Should this even be in Night World? ;_;]**


End file.
